


A Coffin for the Sheriff

by blueswan



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Cameos, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s05e22 Not Fade Away, F/M, Spaghetti Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:30:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueswan/pseuds/blueswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't what Wes expected when he was dying. </p>
<p>Originally posted March 2005 for the Happy!Wes Ficathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Coffin for the Sheriff

It was a dusty road, with pebbles and rocks holding some of the dust down. His feet ached. He wasn't sure where he was or why he was there, but he put one foot after the other because moving seemed important. Continual glances at his surroundings gave him nothing to orient himself, but the sun continued to glare down from above. He wiped a handful of shirt across his face and trudged onward.

He chased after a memory that would explain his location - so many memories to sort, and not one offered him a clue. Then he rolled one over that stopped him in his tracks. Fred crying over him - no, not Fred -It - whatever a god-king demon was under the shell it commandeered.

Wes pulled his shirt up again, and there it was - a gaping knife-wound, somehow not bleeding even though the hole was as wide as if the twisting knife had just been removed. Wincing in anticipation, he touched the edges, and when it didn't twinge, he followed the point of entry into his body curiously. Still no pain, he marvelled, and came to the most likely conclusion.

He looked around him again, seeking clues for his final disposition. Overhead, the sun at its zenith burned bright, and scrub-brush edged up to the roadway. A sound caught his ear and he spun around quickly. He saw a snake trying to slither across the road. "Thanks for trying, lover," it hissed and Wes walked toward it.

Two bats swooped down around his head, and he flung his arms up to ward them off. He heard Angel's voice, "Wes, we've got it now. Rest."

"I'm dead." He couldn't breathe or move as he pondered his new situation. The bats swooped and dove around his head, twisting the air and the heat and the dust into a halo. They flew away and returned over and over, bringing bits of bright stone and flowers they dropped at his feet. Finally, they came to rest hanging by their tiny grasping claws in his hair.

"I'm dead and this - is what? This isn't heaven or hell. It's just a road… I'm walking a road - to where exactly?"

He sat down among the scattered stones and funereal flowers and ran his hands through his hair. Squeaks sounded by each ear, and he felt the bats hanging there like horror show props.

Behind him he heard a horn blare. He was sitting in the middle of a road, with bats in his hair and a talking snake a few feet away. He rubbed his hand over his belly and felt the hollowed out area that he had seen a few moments - an eternity - ago. That was real.

A hand on his shoulder shook him, and another hand under his bent elbow raised him easily to his feet. The same hand pulled at his shoulder and he followed it around slowly.

"God!" Unbidden, pulled by shock and amazement out of his throat. And underneath, happiness bobbed to the surface - undiluted joy at the sight in front of him.

"Nope. Just me. But I'm very flattered, Wes."

"Cordelia." He pulled her into a hug and she returned it with equal fervour. "Where are we? Am I dead, really? I'm sure I am, but things have been so confusing, lately. I'm not sure - can I trust my memories, anymore?"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking, Wes," she said.

"I've been rude. Forgive me please. I'm not feeling myself."

"Come on Wes, let's go. I've got a sweet little car here. I'll try to answer your questions on the way." Cordelia slung an arm over his shoulder and the little brown bats nestled against Wes' skull squeaked.

"Oh my god." Cordy jumped away from Wes. "That is so disgusting, Wes. Why would you conjure that -" The pair took wing around Wes again. "Ugh. Those things."

"They just arrived, Cordy. I didn't create them."

"Oh, honey, you created everything here. Everything - even me. And can I say again how flattered I am?" She urged him toward a red convertible. "Thanks for the awesome car, by the way."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Cordelia."

Cordelia opened the passenger door of the coupe, and Wes climbed in. He found himself staring at the snake again lying on the road. It wasn't moving at all. Surely by now it should have slithered off into the surrounding desert. Cordelia started the car and looked where Wes was staring.

"Wes -"

"You already apologized once, Cordy. I told you then it wasn't your fault."

She squeezed his arm and sighed. She tossed her hair back and wrapped a scarf around it, jammed sunglasses over her eyes, and started the car. She managed a neat three-point turn and the little car flew down the road.

"Can you tell me where we are?"

"Mexico, and I have no idea why. Though I do feel the urge to find a sleepy cantina and throw back some tequila, don't you? There's a little place up the road a bit. I saw it on my way to pick you up. We could stop in for a quick one."

"Are you my guide?"

Cordy snorted. "Yeah and I was a higher power too."

"Sorry,"

"Wes, it's okay. It's all going to turn out fine. Just have a little faith here, okay?"

"I'm not good at "faith", Cordelia. I failed Faith in every way I possibly could."

"Ppht. Oh, please Wes. Not that again." Cordelia pulled the car off the road and stopped next to a wooden building. "This is the place. Let's go in."

Wes stepped out of the car and looked around. A couple of gas pumps that had to be ancient and unusable tilted toward the building. Tumbleweeds blew along side the structure, rolling back and forth repeatedly like children were sending balls along a floor. The wooden building was aged to a silvery sheen. It had a porch along the front, where two rockers sat side by side. A shotgun was braced against the wall between them and an old dog lay in front of it. The dog raised its head and grinned. "I always knew you'd come to this, Wesley. Such a disappointment you've always been."

Cordy twined her arm about Wes' and tsked. "You really need to work on your symbolism, Wes. That's not very subtle."

He shook his head at her rebuke, and dropped his eyes as he walked up the steps past the dog. Together he and Cordelia stepped through the swinging doors and into a dark room. While he was waiting for his eyes to adjust he heard, "You could have at least worked in some modern conveniences like air conditioning or indoor plumbing, sweetcheeks. That would have been nice. Although the copper tub in my room is rather charming."

"Lorne?"

"Well, yeah. You didn't think I was going to get out after I did Angelcake's little job did you? "

Cordy pulled him over to the table where Lorne was sitting. Wes looked into the green face and compassionate eyes glowing red as ever at him. "You two kids have some talking to do. I'm going to check out that player piano. Nice scenario you've got going here, Wes."

"I don't understand. Cordelia, what's happening?"

"Honestly, Wes. You're not that dumb. You're dead and this is your version of heaven. Though I've got to say, if Clint Eastwood walks through that door and looks any older than he did in Pale Rider, I'm going to be very disappointed in you."

Cordy snapped her fingers and a bottle and two shot glasses hit the table simultaneously. "God the service sucks here. Where's the lemons and salt?" Wes blinked, as the items demanded popped into view.

She leaned across Wes and grabbed the bottle and poured them both shots. She did the routine, slammed her glass down on the table and grinned at him. "Belly up, Wesley. You're behind already."

With a grimace she reached into his hair and removed the two bats. "You two have to go back now. He's going to be okay." She walked to the door and tossed the bats into the air. On the way back to the table she brushed her hands. "Eww. No more gross stuff, okay Wes?"

Cordy stopped beside him and laid her hand over his belly. "That has to go too." Wes yanked up his shirt and the hole was gone - not even a scar left behind. "You could have done it yourself instead of walking around like that. Seriously, Wesley, things could have nested in there."

"Thank you, Cordelia." Wes looked at the tequila and frowned. Really, he preferred boiler-makers if he was going to drink heavily. He looked at Cordy's happy grin and decided to follow her lead.

"I wasn't sure about much by the time I got to Vale's. And then it was all pain and more pain, and Fred. And that hurt even more because I knew it wasn't her. I was dying a lie - and I liked it. I asked her for it.

"It was supposed to comfort me while I died. I knew Fred was gone, that I'd never see her again, but I wasn't sure about everyone else. Did I even deserve a chance to see my friends again? I just didn't know."

"Have another drink, Wes, unless it makes you even more maudlin. You're a good man - you did your best. We all did. So here we are, all the warriors gathered together. Kind of like Valhalla with a western theme. "

Wes raised his brows and smiled.

"I’m not supposed to know about myths and legends?" An open hand swatted his arm.

He curled his hand under her chin and Cordelia lifted her head up. "What?"

Wes leaned forward, and kissed her softly. She blinked, and a wide smile lit her face. "You're welcome, Wes."

Over at the piano, Lorne banged some chords out and topped them with a hand over hand flourish running up the ivories. "Time for the big finish, kids." He clapped, "Up on the stage, you two."

Cordy pulled Wes to his feet. "Come on, Wes. You don't want Lorne to get his prima donna on, do you?"

Wes found himself on a stage with Cordy at his side. Lorne blew a note on a pitch pipe, and hummed at them before he sat down and started playing. Cordy smiled up at Wes as she locked arms with him and sang.

"Sing," she ordered.

And so he did. It was always safest to do as Cordelia wished.


End file.
